Keeping Up Appearances
by alyssialui
Summary: Barty has to keep up appearances at Hogwarts. Set in GoF. Added another chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Barty has to keep up appearances at Hogwarts. Set in GoF._

_Submission for:_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): **Transfiguration Assignment #7 - Write about a human who's switched identities._

_**The Battleship Challenge II: **Set during Goblet of Fire_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>He pulled the pocket watch out of his robes to check the time as he stirred the cauldron slowly. Just a few more minutes, and he would have another batch of the potion to last him another two weeks. This was such an intricate potion that needed to be brewed perfectly, else he end up with an extra finger, but he wasn't too worried. He had brewed this potion so much he was sure he could do it in his sleep.<p>

Things were going smoothly with the plan so far. Potter now thought he was his only friend at the school. Everyone turned against him when they thought he had purposely broken the rules to put his name in the Goblet. He scoffed. Potter wasn't even smart enough to tie his own shoelaces, much less tamper with such an important magical artefact. The professors and the students were even more oblivious. If he had known it was so easy to impersonate a renown retired Auror, he would have done it years ago and saved himself the trouble of hiding out with the others.

He shook his head. No, he would have stayed with them regardless. He was one of them. They accepted him when he felt like he was no one. They made him into someone and gave his life purpose. They saw that he had more to offer than his father ever did.

He spat onto the floor as he thought about his father, that man who sat on his high horse at the Ministry, thinking the world was a safe place of gumdrops and laughter. He wished he could see his father's face when the rug was pulled beneath his feet and the Dark Lord regained his full strength.

"Do you see me now, father?" he said softly into the empty back-room of his quarters. He would stand before his father on the Dark Lord's right hand with a smug look. His father would definitely notice him then, right before he killed him.

The potion suddenly turned a murky grey, large bubbles popping under the viscous fluid. It was done. He ladled even amounts into almost fifty vials. He wished he could have brewed more but he couldn't steal too much from Snape's stores without raising suspicion. The man already regarded those around him with a wary eye.

He moved over to a small shelf against the wall next to a large rattling chest. He grinned as he pulled down a tube containing many short strands of greying hair. He called out loudly, "It's night time, you old fool! Go to bed!" He wished the old man would stop fighting. He had a few more months to go in there before he would be disposed of as well.

He took a hair and one of the vials of ladled potion and sat down. He would take the potion right after he transformed back. He slowly took off his prosthetic leg and popped the magic eye out of his socket. Better to get those out of the way while he could.

After a few more minutes, it happened. No matter how many times he transformed, it was always very uncomfortable. His body wasted away as the fat disappeared and his skin began to cling to his emaciated form. His wiry grey hair got thicker and shorter as it darkened. He watched his leg grow out of the old man's stump. He saw as his field of vision doubled as his own eye returned to his empty socket. Alastor Moody no longer sat in the quarters of the Defence Against the Dark Art professor.

He looked at the mark on his left arm, the black snake coiling around the skull languidly. It was definitely getting stronger, but was still slightly pale. He hoped Wormtail was catering to his Lord to the best of his abilities. He knew he could have helped his Lord regain his strength but no one trusted Wormtail to impersonate a professor. Only he could do this job.

He dropped the hair in the potion. It fizzed a bit before he downed the horrible taste in one go. Another uncomfortable transformation later, he dressed for bed, leant the prosthetic against the night table with his eye on top, and went to sleep as Alastor Moody would.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Tonight was the final part of the plan._

_Submission for:_

_**Greek Mythology Mega Prompt Challenge: **Minotaur – Write about the Triwizard Tournament maze._

_****Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): ****Major & Minor Arcana Assignment #9 - Choose from the four different suits: cups, pentacles, swords, or wands and create a story that revolves around that suit (object) - cups. Prompt - war._

_**Missing Moments Competition: **Barty puts the cup in the maze._

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><p>He took a long draught from the flask at his hip, shaking his head as the familiar tingle travelled down his spine and outwards to his fingers and toes. Even after eight months, he still couldn't get over the strong tremours or the fact that it was worse than drinking hippogriff piss (and that was something he was unfortunately familiar with).<p>

As he waited for the feeling to pass, he turned his gaze towards wall of moving vines before him. Sprout and that half giant had really outdone themselves making this living obstacle course and if he wasn't so busy, he might even congratulate them come morning. But tonight he had a job to do. Everything he had been working on depended on this moment and he had to ensure things were perfect.

He strode forward, moving as quickly as he could on his wooden leg as the hedges parted before him. Following the instructions from the half-giant, he should be able to get to the center and back without any unwarranted encounters. So far, things were going smoothly. There was the odd rustle of a scurrying animal or the shifting hedges, but he wasn't scared. He had faced much scary things before, some things real and some which lived only within his mind.

Images flashed across his mind: his father's frowning face, never impressed with his son's weak attempts at success, the flicker of candlelight reflecting off the circle of silver masks around him as he bent at his Lord's feet, his forearm extended, the Longbottoms' petrified faces, his father look of utter disbelief at his trial. Then there were the screams, the screams of the forgotten and the lost souls of Azkaban, some that were his own though he never remembered screaming but he felt the rawness of his throat and lungs.

An angry screech sounded to his right, pulling him back to the present. He spun wildly, holding his wand before him as he came face to face with a spitting Acromantula.

"Crucio!" he snarled without a second thought, the spell knocking the vile arachnid onto its back as it squealed in pain, its many legs twitching in the air. He came closer, all the pain and anguish in his life begging him to end the creature's miserable life but stopped. He couldn't bring too much attention to himself tonight. He was still Alastor Moody and Alastor Moody wouldn't kill an acromantula (well, not just like that).

A few more turns through the narrow hedges opened out into a small clearing. The air was still here, the odd sounds of the maze completely disappeared. It was as if he had happened another world and its lone feature was the small pedestal in the centre covered in many thick vines.

He reached into the depths of his robes to retrieve his charge - the Triwizard Cup. Greatly different from the Goblet, the Cup was made of goblin silver, its side shining even in the dim light. He licked his lips hungrily as he gazed at his reflection. This was it. This would be the end of this time of "peace" and be the beginning of a new era. This was the beginning of a war and a new reign for the Dark Lord.

He pointed his wand at the cup and muttered the incantation, his smile widening as it glowed bright white before returning to its lustrous shine. He bowed low, placing the Cup on its pedestal before stepping back. Now his job was complete.

He turned back towards the opening in the hedges and began making his way out. This time tomorrow, all hell would break loose. He just hoped the Potter boy did his job.


End file.
